My Husband's Father Wants Me

Chapter 8

"Please, continue," Ethan said, taking a step back from the threshold, though he paused almost immediately. "Um, Dad, why did you suddenly decide to work out of this office today? I thought you didn't want to draw attention to the fact that this venture is under the Sterlings."

"Do you have a problem with where I choose to work?" Damian asked, his deep voice rumbling directly above my head.

"Of course not, Dad," Ethan replied quickly, though a slight smirk lingered in his tone. "I just didn't expect you to be hiding a ‘beauty’ in your office. She must be a wild one—unlike that boring Arabella. She doesn't evoke a single feeling in me anymore."

A cold thrill shot down my spine.

Damian lowered his head until his lips were near my ear… "He says you're boring," he whispered, his voice low so that only I could hear as his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Do you think we should give him a live demonstration?"

I stiffened in his arms, my heart hammering violently against my ribs as his teeth lightly grazed my earlobe.

"Damian—" I had intended to make it sound like a warning, but it came out as a breathless, sultry gasp.

My face burned with horror and embarrassment.

Across the room, Ethan froze. "Wait... why does her voice sound like Arabella?"

"Stare at her again, and I'll gouge your eyes out," Damian warned, his voice dropping to an icy, lethal register.

"W-what?" Ethan stammered, caught completely off guard by his father's sudden hostility.

"Get out," Damian commanded, giving him zero room to recover.

"Dad?"

"Did I stutter?"

"O-okay, I'm leaving right now," Ethan said, taking a step backward toward the hallway. But just before the doors could swing shut, he stopped once more. "Um, Dad... in case Arabella actually comes here today, please don't buy any of her sketches on my account."

"What are you still standing there for?" Damian growled.

"Right! Leaving now!"

The heavy doors finally clicked shut, leaving the office in dead silence.

For a long moment, I remained frozen in Damian's hold, Ethan’s words echoing on an agonizing loop in my mind.

‘Boring.’

‘She doesn't evoke a single feeling in me.’

‘Don't buy her sketches on my account.’

How had I been so blind? How had I spent three years married to a man who secretly held so much contempt for me?

He was a complete stranger compared to the boy who had comforted me online five years ago when my parents divorced—the boy who had listened when my mother fell into deep depression and ended up in the hospital.

That boy was gone. In his place stood a cruel, callous man.

"Arabella," Damian’s low voice broke through the fog in my mind, grounding me. "Are you alright?"

It was only then that I realized I was still clinging to him—holding onto my father-in-law as if he were my only anchor in a storm.

Feeling mortified, I shoved against his chest as if he were a burning flame, taking a wide step back. "I... I'm fine."

Damian let out a low chuckle, watching my flustered reaction with dark amusement. "Did you just cast me aside the second I stopped being useful to you?"

"Mr. Sterling!" I gasped, my cheeks flaring with heat. ‘Why was he making it sound so scandalous!’

His chuckle faded into a heavy silence. "Christ, Arabella... Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"W-what did I do?"

I lifted my head, meeting a pair of intense gray eyes. Damian was watching me with a look so deep, so possessive, that it made my pulse jump.

"Most women would be in tears by now if they heard their husband speak about them with such disdain," he said quietly.

It took me a second to process his words, but when I did, a cold resolve settled in my chest. "Crying over someone who doesn't value me is a waste of time. Besides, what would my tears change?"

"Tears shed for those who don't deserve them are indeed a waste," Damian agreed, keeping his gaze locked onto mine. "But I disagree with the second part."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Whether your tears can change a situation depends entirely on who you shed them in front of," Damian said softly, taking a deliberate step toward me.

“To some men, they are worthless. To others...” His gaze darkened. “They are the most precious thing a woman can give them.”

The absolute sincerity in his deep tone made my breath catch in my throat.

Overwhelmed, I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his piercing gaze any longer. “Mr. Sterling—”

“Damian,” he corrected, his voice quiet but firm.

I swallowed, refusing to meet his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

For several seconds, he said nothing.

The silence stretched between us, heavy enough to make my pulse race.

Then I felt his fingers brush lightly against my chin.

I instinctively tensed, but he didn't force me to look at him. His touch lingered for only a moment before falling away.

“You're a smart woman, Arabella,” he said calmly. “It shouldn't be difficult for you to see what I want."

My pulse spiked wildly. ‘God, what was he implying?’